Frozen
by storylover18
Summary: Inspired by the scene where Ron and Harry jump into the frozen lake in DH1. Naturally, they would have to get sick from such an action, something that annoys an already-annoyed Hermione. Sick!Ron and Sick!Harry. Technically movie verse with a few book details that may come up. Friendship but original pairings implied.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.**

**Hi everyone! For some odd reason which I suspect to be stress and/or denial of my To Do list, I've been on a Harry Potter kick for a couple of weeks now and **_**finally**_** came up with a story idea. Inspired by the scene in Deathly Hallows Part 1 where Ron and Harry jump into the pond to retrieve the sword … enjoy! **

"All in favour?" Ron's eager voice asked and Hermione raised an eyebrow slightly. Harry had an amused look on his face as he watched Ron's face fall when he realized this ploy did not win a smile from Hermione. The girl rolled her eyes, clutched the book tightly to her chest, and went back outside.

"Subtle," Harry said to Ron, the amused look still dancing in his eyes.  
"Can't blame me for trying," Ron said with a sigh.

"No," Harry agreed, yawning and shivered. "That pond did nothing for the cold. I'm going to bed."

* * *

Hermione was on watch for most of the night though she and Harry had become a bit lax in staying out constantly; it was freezing and with only two people, it was becoming harder to stay awake all night. Even so, every time Hermione left the tent flap unattended, she could hear Mad Eye scolding her, "Constant vigilance."

It must have been around four o'clock in the morning when Hermione came in, cold and tired. The threes had decided to see Xenophilius Lovegood the next day and she knew it would be best to get some sleep before packing up the tent and leaving the Forest of Dean. She washed up with cold water and, shivering, crawled between her blankets. She was asleep almost instantly.

* * *

Harry woke up while it was still dark, though he could vaguely make out Hermione's shape in her bed, meaning it was probably quite early rather than very late. He was intent on closing his eyes again but a deep cough grew in his chest and, unable to keep it in, Harry coughed loudly. He groaned as he realized his sinuses were full of pressure and he was soaked in cold sweat. Ron, the world's heaviest sleeper, didn't stir. Hermione, however, did.

"Harry?" she whispered. "Harry, are you alright?"

Harry lost the battle not to cough again before wheezing, "I'm fine. Go back to sleep."

Hermione couldn't be persuaded and wrapping her blanket around her shoulders as she stood, she lit the tip of her wand and crossed the tent to the lower bunk.

"What's wrong?" she asked, squinting at Harry's face.

"Nothing, go back to sleep."

Hermione frowned.

"You're pale," she said. "And drenched in sweat."

Harry instinctively knew that a hand was descending onto his forehead.

"Hermione," Harry complained, shoving her hand off and rolling over, pulling his blankets up. Hermione sighed.

"You've got another fever," she said.

"It's fine," Harry replied, his voice mumbled by the pillow. "I just need some sleep."

The bushy-haired girl raised an eyebrow but silently padded back to her bed. She wasn't going to argue with him and he'd still be ill in the morning. She'd deal with him then.

* * *

Hermione was met with a less-than-pleasant surprise the next morning. Not only was Harry coughing, running a fever, and spluttering he was fine, Ron was doing the same thing.

"Why?" she exclaimed to no one in particular after she had felt Ron's temperature. "Why now?"

"Well, I'm sure it had nothing to do with the frozen pond we jumped into in the middle of winter," Harry muttered. He was not in a good mood, having not fallen back asleep since his first awakening. Ron coughed loudly and then groaned, the bed above Harry's squeaking ominously. "Alright," Hermione said with a sigh. "Obviously we're not going to see Mr. Lovegood today so make yourselves comfortable."

"Where are you going?" Ron asked, seeing her pull on her boots and coat.

"To get fresh water and then do the spells again. We've been here a few days already and they're wearing off."

Hermione didn't look at him when she spoke but instead just left the tent. Her exit created a draft that caused both boys to shiver violently.

"Sorry about this, Ron," Harry said, teeth chattering.

"'s not your fault."

"Sure it is. I would've died if you hadn't jumped into the water to save me."

"I guess." Ron said with a discrete shrug. "I feel bad for Hermione – she wanted to see Lovegood today and now she's stuck here."

Harry sighed. The prospect of being in the same tent as Ron and Hermione for the rest of the day – and any subsequent days this lingered – was not one Harry found particularly appealing. Hermione returned with a bucket of water and carefully poured some into their small kettle before turning to face her patients.

"Symptoms." She ordered – it was not a request and both Ron and Harry knew it. Ron, ever eager to please Hermione, answered first.

"My head hurts, throat's sore, cough, ugh, fever, I think. Tired."

Hermione nodded before glancing down to Harry.

"Same," he said. "But I have sinus pressure as well. My ears hurt."

Hermione frowned at that bit of news. The last thing any of them needed was to be sick but if Harry had an ear infection, they'd all be in trouble. The kettle whistled and she turned around to make tea.

"We'll try and nip this in the bud as soon as possible," she said, adding sugar to Ron's tea the way she knew he liked it. "Complete bed-rest and fluids."

She carried two steaming mugs of tea over to her patients.

"Thanks," Ron said graciously, sipping it and burning his tongue. He ignored the pain, smiling at her. "It's good."

Hermione didn't reply but simply handed Harry his tea before calling up a particular book from her beaded bag.

"I'll see if I can make any sort of potion to help you feel better. I don't think I have the things for pepper-up, which was stupid of me."

"No, it wasn't." Ron said immediately and Harry sighed. Ron's behaviour was simultaneously entertaining and nauseating.

"It was," Hermione snapped. "I should've thought that one of us might get sick out here."

"You had no way of knowing," Harry replied. "And we're all generally pretty healthy people, Quidditch injuries aside."

Hermione let out a brief chuckle though the smile didn't stay on her face for very long.

"Even so, I should have packed medicines. I'm sure your mother had loads of them right in the house, Ron."

Ron perked up at being addressed by Hermione.

"Oh, yeah, loads of them for every sort of illness."

Harry frowned – that didn't exactly sound like it was encouraging Hermione. The annoyed look on Hermione's face confirmed Harry's thought but Ron was so glad that Hermione had spoken to him, he was still talking.

"We were usually health kids, except for Percy, but I guess after seven of us, she built up quite a store. I can remember one Christmas where Percy, Bill, and Charlie all came home from Hogwarts with flu and, well, you can imagine that soon every one of us had it, too. We didn't celebrate Christmas till New Years because we were all stuck in bed."

"And how does that help us?" Hermione asked shortly. "I still didn't think to bring medicine or anything for potions."

"You have Essence of Dittany," Harry said with a small sip of tea. "Would that help at all?"

"No."

Hermione didn't elaborate and turned back to the kettle, pouring herself tea as well. After all, it was cold outside and she was hungry. Her stomach growled in protest as it met only liquid.

"Are you hungry?" Hermione asked the boys.

"No," Harry replied quickly. "Not a bit."

Hermione glanced at Ron, who shook his head.

"Sorry."

Hermione sighed.

"That's not a good sign. You're always hungry, Ron."

She sighed again and rummaged through her bag, pulling out a loaf of bread and slicing it.

"Where did you get bread?" Harry asked, his stomach clenching at the very sight of it.

"Godric's Hollow."

Once again, Hermione didn't elaborate and Harry didn't push for details. The girl ate her breakfast before turning back to her ailing friends.

They looked at her expectedly and Hermione simply stared at them before, much to her own surprise (not to mention Ron and Harry's), her lower lip quivered and she grabbed her coat, running out of the tent.

**Okay, I admit you can't actually get sick from jumping into cold water in the middle of winter, at least not sick like this. But hey, fanfiction. Also, no idea what this will turn into so please register your thoughts and opinions below! Thank you =) **


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.**

**Hello! Thanks for sticking with me, I'm sorry about the delay. I'm graduating Uni soon and I have major senioritis, which is negatively impacting my writing life as well. Plus I had no idea what to do with this story … and I still don't past this chapter. Ideas are welcome! **

"What the bloody hell was that all about?" Ron exclaimed, glancing down at Harry, who shrugged.

"Don't know … do you think one of us should talk to her?"

Ron hesitated.

"Probably. I remember Ginny saying that when girls tell you to go away, they really mean they want someone to follow them and ask if they're okay. Or something like that."

Harry raised an eyebrow.

"I'd better be the one to go. She'll at least talk to me."

Ron scowled.

"Oh, give it up," Harry said as he threw back his covers and shivered. "You know what I mean."

He pulled on shoes and his own coat before peering out of the tent flap. He saw Hermione sitting on a rock near the river bed. Harry pulled his coat closer and walked over.

"Hermione?" he asked softly.

Hermione jumped and hastily wiped her tears away, though they continued to flow.

"You shouldn't be out of bed." Hermione replied.

Harry sat down on a smaller rock in front of her, pulling his knees close. He was sitting lower than Hermione and glanced up at her tear-stained face.

"What's this all about?" he asked quietly.

Hermione sniffed and ran her hand under her nose.

"I … I … this is all my fault."

Harry frowned.

"I fail to see how it is," he said bluntly. "I'm the reason we're hunting horcruxes and I'm the reason Ron jumped into a frozen pond."

"No, not that," Hermione sobbed, giving up on hiding it. "I packed everything, I made all the plans, I'm supposed to be the one to take care of things and I can't do anything now! There's no spells, no potions, no medicines … it's just me and I'm not good enough to make things better, not without magic."

Harry sighed.

"Hermione, that's not true," he said. "You are a brilliant witch but that doesn't mean you're nothing without magic. You said it yourself … you're highly logical and that lets you see details that people overlook. You don't use magic to do that."

"But I can't make you and Ron well again."

"Maybe not but that's not because you aren't giving us the attention we need."

Harry _hated_ the notion of needing attention but this was about making Hermione feel better regardless of what it meant for Harry.

"You don't have medicine to give us, that doesn't mean you're not looking after us. You took care of me after we got back from Godric's Hollow. How is this any different?"

"It _is_ different," Hermione answered. "We have things to do now and I can't help. Last time you were ill, we had no idea where to go next so it didn't matter that it took time for you to get better. Now it does."  
Harry sighed.

"Mr. Lovegood will still be there tomorrow or whenever we get over this."

As soon as Harry said this, he knew it was a weak argument and Hermione wasted no time in pointing it out.

"Not necessarily! People go missing every day. You've heard those radio reports."

"Listen, the point is that you are not to blame for this and I know you'll do whatever you can to help Ron and me feel better. Besides, Ron's so eager to please you that he'll be a model patient. You can do whatever you want to him and he'll praise you all day long."

"I should feed him something awful," Hermione muttered. "The git."

Harry frowned.

"Please don't go too hard on him. I know he hurt you but we're living in the same tent. Be angry at him after this is all over."

"Easy for you to say, he pulled you out of a frozen pond."

Harry sighed, which led to a deep cough that rattled in his chest. Hermione, wiping her eyes again, looked at him with concern.

"You shouldn't be out here," she said. "Go back to bed."

"Only if you come in with me." Harry said stubbornly. Hermione sighed and Harry stood, offering her his hand. Hermione took it and together they walked back to the tent. Ron, who had been listening at the tent flap, scampered back into bed mere seconds before the flap opened and a flushed Hermione and a pale Harry stepped in, Harry doing up the flap after them.

"Alright, Hermione?"

Hermione sighed.

"Yeah, fine. How do you feel?"

Ron shrugged.

"Okay, I guess."

Hermione sighed again, this time irritated.

"That doesn't help me at all."

Hermione glanced at Harry and went to his bedside, pulling the blanket up around his shivering form as he lay down again.

"What about you?"

"Sick," Harry said, closing his eyes and teeth chattering. Hermione frowned, pressing her hand against Harry's forehead.

"Your fever is getting worse, you shouldn't have come outside."

"That's what I told him," Ron supplied. "I wanted to go."

"Neither of you should be out of bed, especially outside. It's freezing out there."

Hermione paced back and forth, wondering what she could do. Harry could see she was on the verge of tears again and cracked an eye open.

"Hermione," he murmured. "Calm down."

Hermione didn't listen and Ron sighed.

"Hermione, please."

"Shut up, Ron! I'm trying to think."

Ron settled into his blankets a bit further.

"Ron, would the tent have a first-aid kit in it?" Hermione asked suddenly, looking at Ron. He looked at her blankly.

"What?"

"A first aid kit, it's the same tent we took to the Quiddich World Cup, was there a first aid kit?"

"I … I don't know." Ron sputtered but Hermione was already in the washroom, checking every nook and cranny.

"Aha!" she exclaimed, returning to the table with a small red bag emblazoned with a white cross. She unzipped it, pleased to see it was fully stocked. She took the thermometer out of its case and shook it – it was an old mercury one, evidence as to how old the kit really was – and then stuck it in Harry's mouth before he could protest. It didn't matter much, though, as Harry was feeling worse by the minute. He simply tightened his lips around the device and pulled his blanket tighter around himself.

Hermione continued to examine every item she pulled out, Ron watching from his bunk. Finally she found what she was looking for – a bottle of paracetamol. The blue label with yellow letters was faded but much to her relief, the bottle was full and the date of expiration had not yet passed.

"What are those?" Ron asked as Hermione opened the bottle and counted the pills out into her hand. Harry opened his eyes at the question, squinting to see.

"Paracetamol." Hermione answered, placing the pills on the table as she fetched two tumblers. "Aguamenti," she murmured, watching the glasses fill with clear water. She turned, handing Ron the pills and glass. Ron frowned.

"What do they do?" he asked. Hermione frowned.

"Surely you've taken paracetamol before."

Ron shook his head.

"Mum always had some sort of cure or spell up her sleeve. We've never used Muggle medicine."

"It'll help you feel better." Hermione said lamely. "Just swallow them."

Hermione glanced at Harry, who was as pale as his pillowcase. She slid the thermometer from his mouth and glanced at it.

"Not good," she said with a sigh, putting the thermometer down and retrieving Harry's pills. She helped him sit up and had just handed him the pills when Ron went into a coughing fit. His water splashed from its glass and Hermione hurried to take it before the glass could fall to the ground and shatter.

"You're alright," Hermione said as Ron coughed and spluttered, his face turning red. "Just breathe."

"I'm," _gasp_ "Trying."

Ron continued to cough harshly and Hermione's eyes flickered to Harry. He'd swallowed his pills with ease and was already curled up in the far corner of his bunk, eyes squeezed tightly closed. Hermione noticed his glasses were hung on the metal bar that supported the top bunk.

"'Mione," Ron croaked and Hermione glanced up. "Think … Gonna be … sick."

In an instant, Hermione had summoned a basin and had it in Ron's lap. Her hand had slid behind his back to help him sit and she was, unconsciously, rubbing small circles into his shoulder. Ron finally caught a breath and the tent was quiet, save Ron's ragged breathing.

"Alright?" Hermione asked, sympathy slipping into her voice. Ron swallowed and nodded, though he didn't move away from the bin just yet.

"Couldn't swallow the pills," Ron wheezed. "They triggered a coughing fit."

"Did you manage to get them down?"

Ron shook his head and held out his right hand, showing her the three wet, somewhat chewed capsules. Hermione sighed and Ron felt his ears turn pink.

"You'd think there's nothing to it," he muttered.

"It's fine," Hermione said a bit harsher than she intended. "Do you want to lie back down?"

Ron nodded miserably and Hermione took the unused basin and held out her hands for the pills. Ron, feeling like a burden, dropped them into her outstretched palm and then turned so his back was to her.

Hermione, feeling slightly sorry for her tone, wrinkled her nose at the pills when she knew Ron wasn't watching. She threw them outside before digging around in her bag to find her mortar and pestle. She set it on the table, got three more aspirin tablets, and ground them up with ease before adding them to a fresh glass of water.

"Ron?" she said quietly, so as not to disturb the now-sleeping Harry.

"What?"

"I have medicine for you."

"Bloody hell, Hermione, I told you I can't take them. I'm not going to try again."

"They're not pills," Hermione replied, which caused Ron to roll over. His hardened face softened when he saw the glass Hermione was holding out to him and his eyes flickered to the mortar and pestle before settling on her.

"Thanks," he said, sitting up and taking the glass. He drank the three mouthfuls.

"You're welcome."

For a fleeting moment, Ron and Hermione's eyes locked on each other as the glass was suspended between them.

"You, ugh, try to get some sleep." Hermione stuttered and Ron nodded.

"Yeah, of course."

Hermione, unsure about what just happened, turned away. She cleaned up the mortar and pestle before neatly arranging the medical supplies on the table. She checked on Harry, placed a compress on his burning forehead, and then went outside with her book and blanket to keep watch.

**Like I said, ideas are more than welcome and credit given of course! Please review =) **


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.**

**Hello, everyone! Hope you're all doing well … I'm … stalling, quite honestly. The last exam of my university career is on Monday and my motivation is a ZERO. Which, I suppose, is good news for you, given it means I wrote a chapter AND I finally figured out how the story is going to continue so stay tuned! Thanks, as always, for your amazing support and please enjoy =) **

Hermione was engrossed in her book for most of the morning and didn't go back into the tent until close to midday. She immediately regretted this decision, given the state of Harry and Ron when she walked in. Harry had stretched out over his bed and the young witch could see the sweat circles under his arms and around his neck. The compress had been thrown off during his tossing and turning and even now, his head was rolling back from side to side in the throes of a fever.

Ron was still asleep but Hermione could hear the rattle that had settled into his chest – his breathing was ragged and laboured and he, too, shone with sweat.

Hermione put her book down and rushed to Harry's side.

"Harry?" she asked, shaking his shoulder. "Harry, wake up."

"Leave me 'lone, 'Mione," Harry muttered.

"Harry, wake up." Hermione insisted and after a moment, Harry blearily opened his eyes. They were bright with fever, the green far more piercing than Hermione ever remembered seeing it.

"You need to drink," she said, summoning the tumbler from the table and filling it with water. She slid a hand under Harry's head and supported him as he sipped the water. After only three sips, Harry turned his head away out of exhaustion.

"Come on, Harry, you need to drink more than this. You're burning up."

Harry didn't respond and Hermione sighed, lowering his head again.

"How's your breathing?"

Though better than Ron, Hermione had detected a slight roughness in Harry's breath as well.

"Fine."

Harry knew this was a lie but Hermione looked so scared – that he was able to see through his fevered gaze – and he didn't want to worry her.

"Are you coughing up anything?"

Harry nodded, eyes slipping closed again. Hermione looked around and retrieved one of her pillows, coming back to the lower bunk.

"Can you sit up for a minute?" she asked gently. With great effort that caused Harry's face to pale even further, Hermione plumped up the two pillows and eased Harry back onto them so his head was elevated somewhat.

"Better?"

Harry nodded.

"Better."

Hermione remoistened the cloth and fixed it on Harry's head.

"Go back to sleep," she said, standing. Hermione laid a hand on Ron's cheek before waking him up like she had Harry. His fever wasn't as bad but the moment he was awake, his body was wracked in a coughing fit and he struggled for air.

This time he actually did vomit, though Hermione was aware of this possibility and had the bin ready.

"You're alright," Hermione said soothingly. "Done?"

Ron, who was hunched over the basin in his lap, nodded. Hermione cleared away the sick with a simple _Tergio_ spell and then eased Ron onto a stack of pillows and rolled up blankets and jumpers. She got him a glass of water, watching his hand shake as he sipped it.

"Thanks." He whispered, his voice practically non-existent in the wake of his vomiting spree. Hermione didn't reply but stretched up a hand to his forehead.

"You're burning up, too," she said with a sigh. "The medicine isn't doing anything to help."

"I'm okay."

"No, you're not."

Hermione turned back to the table and found the thermometer. Having had cleaned it after its last user, she put it into Ron's mouth rather unceremoniously. Ron winced but (wisely) didn't say anything. His eyes slipped closed as he pulled his blankets up – his skin was covered in goose-flesh.

Hermione watched this with concern and, gently this time, removed the thermometer and sighed when she saw the number. Ron was already dozing again though his breathing was far from deep or steady. The young witch went to the kitchen and filled a basin with cool water and after transfiguring an old ball of yarn (apparently Mr. or Mrs. Perkins had had an affinity for knitting) into a sponge, carefully carried the bowl to Ron's bunk.

It wasn't the most comfortable position but Hermione was standing on a chair, the basin of water resting on the bed in front of her in good faith that Ron wouldn't flail his arms. She wrung out the sponge and began pressing it to his neck and face. Ron had jumped at first contact but soon settled and Hermione could tell he was relaxing and therefore falling into a deeper sleep.

She sighed.

"I don't know what to do for you," she whispered, turning the sponge over and pressing it to Ron's forehead. Ron did not reply, merely squirmed uncomfortably while his eyes remained closed.

Hermione sighed and dipped her sponge into the basin again before wiping it over Ron's cheek and moving down his neck.

"And I don't want to be mad at you," she continued, her eyes and hands focused on her task. "But I am. How could you leave? Don't you care?"

She sighed again.

"Of course you care. I know you do. You just got fed up is all … but why did you have to be so … so … definitive about it? Do you have any idea how many nights I laid awake and thought about you or wondered where you were, if you were safe? All of a sudden, _I_ was the one listening to the radio, afraid I would hear _your_ name. I don't know what I would do if you were killed or sent to Azkaban."

Hermione was surprised to hear herself say these things. She knew she'd been angry but vocalizing it made her emotions sound strange. She liked to consider herself a witch who was in control of her emotions and had priorities but here she was, babbling on and on at the bedside of the boy-now-man she had grown to love.

"I hate how you do this to me," Hermione muttered. "All of it."

Ron let out a low groan and Hermione sighed.

"That about sums it up," she said, pressing the sponge to his forehead firmly.

From down below, Harry's eyes roamed the bottom of the upper bunk. He must be hallucinating, he _must_ be. Hermione didn't just say all of that … did she? Harry had known for a while now that his two best friends had formed a special, deeper bond but this did not sound like the Hermione he knew. How had this happened? Hermione was so level-headed and now she sounded like … well, a lot like a girl. Harry's thoughts wandered to Ginny … did she feel this way about how Harry had left her? Was she worried about him?

Harry was sure that she was … the kiss they had shared for his birthday told him that she felt about him the same way he felt about her. It was only natural that she would be worried about him, not knowing where he was or if he was even alive. Harry closed his eyes and imagined that instead of Hermione, Ginny was the one leaning over his bed. Her hands were delicate as they sponged down his forehead and pushed back his damp hair.

"Shhh," she soothed as he opened his mouth to speak. "It's alright. Go back to sleep."

Her sentence echoed in his mind as Harry felt his heart ache for the girl _he_ loved and, out of duty to her, he let his eyes slide closed and was soon fast asleep again.

* * *

When Harry next woke up, he no longer saw Hermione's stocking feet on the chair. He blinked and put his glasses on, searching the tent for the bushy-haired girl.

"'Mione?" he croaked.

He heard the splashing of water and a moment later, Hermione came from the bathroom with a small washcloth in her hand.

"Harry," she said, coming over. "How are you feeling?"

Harry relaxed when he saw her and leaned back against his pillows.

"Exhausted," he answered. "And sore."

He swallowed and winced as it stung. Hermione tested his fever with the back of her hand.

"Your fever's about the same, I think," she said. "Headache?"

Harry nodded as Hermione searched out the thermometer.

"My eyes hurt," he said. "And my ears."

Hermione frowned as she waved her wand at the device to clean it before holding it out to Harry.

"That's not good," she said with a sigh. "Your eyes are probably sore because you're sleeping so much but your ears … that worries me."

Harry nodded in response, given he couldn't speak. Hermione had been right about the fever – it was the same as it was last time.

"What time is it, anyways?" Harry asked.

"Ten thirty." Hermione answered. "I was getting ready to go to bed."

"Don't let me stop you."

"It's alright," Hermione replied with a rare smile. "Do you want something to eat or drink?"

Harry's stomach did an odd flip-flop at the mention of food.

"Nothing to eat," he said quickly. "But I'll have some water, if there is any."

"Of course," Hermione said just as quickly. She found a tumbler and filled it with water before handing it to Harry. He sat up and took it.

"One second," Hermione said, turning away again. Harry heard the pill bottle rattle and accepted the two paracetamol from her, swallowing them along with the water. He handed her the cup before throwing off the covers and swinging his feet off the bed.

"What are you doing?"

"Going to the loo." Harry replied, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh." Hermione said, blushing. She stepped aside and watched Harry walk unsteadily to the bathroom before sighing. She glanced up at Ron again. At least he had fallen asleep soundly and, though he was snoring, he wasn't as restless. The compress she had placed on his brow was still in place, at least. Hermione turned her head as the bathroom door clicked open and Harry re-emerged. The simple action had worn him out and he collapsed as gingerly as he could onto his bed (and even this made him hurt), not protesting as Hermione pulled the covers up around him.

"Hermione?"

"Yes?"

"When will we get better?"

It was a juvenile question, he knew it was, but his eyes were already closed and Hermione couldn't help but feel it was at least partially driven by his exhaustion.

"Soon," she said, gently taking his glasses off. "Really soon."

She didn't need to tell Harry to go to sleep and by the time she had finished in the bathroom, both of her friends were sleeping. With a sigh, she crawled under her blankets and bunched them near her head (she'd given them all her pillows).

"Reducto," she murmured, pointing to the light hanging from the ceiling. Although it dimmed, Hermione laid there staring at the bunk beds opposite for a long time before she relaxed enough to fall asleep.

**I hope that was up to your expectation … thanks to the anonymous reviewer who suggested they be sitting up – it is a very valid point! Please review =) **


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.**

**Hi everyone! I am officially done my university … or at least done by BA! This means I have lots of time for fun things, like writing fanfiction! Thank you for all your support of this story – I've fallen in love with Harry Potter once again (lucky me!) I hope you enjoy this chapter … I admit it's a bit of a filler but it has a lovely cliff hanger ending. **

To complicate things, Hermione woke up to a blizzard the next morning. Never in her life had she seen this much snow and she shivered as she zipped the tent up tightly. No one would be doing watch today – partly because she didn't think anyone would be out in this weather, partly because no one could _see_ in this weather, but mostly because she had two very sick friends to take care of.

Hermione, still wearing her pyjamas, went to Harry's bed and gingerly pressed her knuckles to his temple. His fever was about the same, she reckoned, but she was relieved that his breathing wasn't as ragged and he was sleeping quite peacefully. Ron, too, was quite still but when Hermione stood, she saw this to be a problem rather than a sign of recovery.

A quick touch to the forehead told Hermione that Ron was burning up. He was far too warm and she didn't need the thermometer to tell her that his fever was dangerously high. Immediately she went into the bathroom, returning with a cold washcloth which she haphazardly used to wipe Ron's face and chest before leaving it to sit on his forehead. She scurried back into the bathroom, stoppering the bathtub and filling it with cool water.

"Hermione?"

The girl was in the process of untangling Ron's blankets from his legs – standing on the chair to do so – when Harry spoke her name.

"Harry!" she exclaimed, jumping down so she could see him properly. "How do you feel?"

"A bit better," Harry said and Hermione noted he sounded better. "What are you doing?"

"Trying to get Ron into the bath," she said. "He's got a high temperature."

Harry frowned, throwing his own blankets back with ease and standing. One look at his friend and he saw Hermione was right.

"Were you going to wake him or use a hover charm?"

"Wake him, if I can. A hover charm might not work very well – he's awfully high up for me."

"Right." Harry said, turning to his friend. "Ron!"

Ron mumbled under his breath and his eyes fluttered but he didn't wake up.

"Ron!" Harry exclaimed again, gently tapping Ron's cheek. His head lazily rolled to the side and Harry glanced worriedly at Hermione.

"Can we both use a hover charm? Would it be stronger that way?" He remembered how he and all the Weasley men had raised the tent for Bill and Fleur's wedding … it would work the same way, wouldn't it?

"No, you're not well enough, Harry. You'll wear yourself out."

"I'll be fine." Harry said firmly. "Worry about me later, focus on Ron."

Hermione knew she wouldn't change Harry's mind and nodded.

"Fine, just let me finish pulling his blankets away."

With a few strong tugs, the blankets were free and Hermione tossed them onto the floor – they were cold and damp with sweat and needed a good washing.

"Alright," Hermione said, glancing at Harry. She saw him holding the blackthorn wand.

"Do you want to practice on something for a minute?"

Harry glanced at his wand. He had been so concerned about Ron that he'd forgotten this wasn't his holly and phoenix feather wand and he nodded. He pointed at the sheets on the ground.  
"Wingardium Leviosa!"

His mind flashed back to when Professor Flitwick had taught them this spell. Harry would have never guessed he'd be using it seven years later while hiding from Voldemort and collecting Horcruxes. The sheets on the ground rose slightly before crumpling back onto the floor and Harry gave a frustrated sigh.

"Wingardium Leviosa!"

The sheets rose a bit higher this time and wavered in the air. Harry moved them across the tent and set them down before turning to Hermione.

"It's not the best but you can do a strong spell. He'll be fine."

Hermione was less than convinced of this but nodded.

"Alright," she said. "On three … one, two, three!"

"Wingardium Leviosa!" Both witch and wizard pointed their wands at Ron and he rose into the air. Together, they slowly walked him into the bathroom and gently lowered him into the tub, Hermione turning off the water once he was in.

"Well done," Harry said, feeling tired again. Ron, whose eyes had opened once he was submerged in water, coughed.

"Harry … Hermione …"

"We're here, Ron," Hermione said, finding another washcloth and sponging Ron's face. "It's alright."

"I'm all wet." He mumbled.

"Shh," Hermione soothed. "You're in the bathtub. I'm trying to get your fever down."

"But I'm wearing pyjamas."

Harry watched Hermione's cheeks turn red and he smiled discreetly. Even though he was feeling more tired by the minute and his head was aching, he offered to stay with Ron while Hermione took care of the sheets and his pyjamas in the kitchen. Hermione gratefully took him up on his offer and closed the curtains to the bathroom. Harry undressed Ron, brought Hermione the wet clothing, and went back in to sit with him. Hermione gathered the sheets and blankets and pyjamas and took them to the big kitchen sink, washing them.

"Harry?" Ron asked, his eyes still closed.

"Yes?"

"Is she still mad at me?"

Harry sighed.  
"I don't think so … I don't really know. I haven't been awake."

"She's taking care of me, that's something, isn't it?"

"I suppose so." Harry agreed. "But you're really quite ill."

"So are you."

"Not as bad as you, I reckon."

"But she's not yelling at me."

"No." Harry suddenly remembered what he had heard Hermione say the night before. "Do you remember her talking to you last night?"

"I don't think so. Why?"

Harry sighed.

"I don't know if I was hallucinating or not," he admitted. "But I think Hermione may have talked to you while you were out of it … stuff about how much you mean to her and how worried she was when you were gone."

A faint smile appeared on Ron's lips but he didn't say anything and for a long time, there was silence. Harry had actually started dozing – he was leaning against the bathtub – when Ron groaned.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked, making an effort to open his eyes.

"I think I'm going to be sick."

"What?"

"I'm going to be sick." There was urgency in Ron's voice and Harry scrambled to find a bin, though he found the bathroom lacking one. He jumped up as fast as he could (which was slow for a seeker but he blamed the illness) and found one on the table in the sitting area.

"What's wrong?" Hermione asked as Harry dashed back to the bathroom. She followed him, stopping just outside the doorway and turning her back as an added precaution.

"Harry? Ron?"

In response, she heard Ron vomit and she winced.

"Are you okay?" she called again, not sure if she was addressing Ron or Harry.

"It's fine," Harry called back, pleased that his stomach hadn't so much as twitched in response to the vomit. He glanced at Ron, whose face was contorted with pain.

"What is it?" he asked but Ron shook his head.

"It's fine, it's just sore."

Harry frowned.

"It's not fine," he answered quietly. "And you're lucky Hermione can't see you right now."

"Why?"

"Because you'd worry her! You're already worrying me."

Hermione could hear that the boys were whispering but she couldn't hear what they were saying.

"Harry? Is everything okay?"

"Yes!" Harry lied before glancing back at Ron. "Are you reading to get out?"

Ron nodded.

"Hermione? Can you find Ron some clean clothes?" Harry asked, searching out a towel. Hermione's hand appeared through the curtain a moment later with fresh pyjamas for Ron.

"Thanks." Harry said, taking them. While he helped Ron, Hermione made up her bed with the fresh sheets and turned the covers down so Ron could get in easily.

"Over here," she said to Harry, who was helping Ron down the steps.

"Why am I moving to your bed?" Ron asked, looking confused.

"Because it's too hard to treat you when I'm always standing on a chair," Hermione said, rushing over to take Ron's other side and support him.

"Where are you going to sleep?"

"Your bed, of course. I've cleaned the mattress with a spell."

"But Harry's there … won't you get sick?"

"I've been living in the same tent with you since you got sick in the first place," Hermione said. "I don't think sleeping in the bed above Harry's is going to make much of a difference at this point."

She and Harry eased Ron onto the bed and Hermione pulled the blanket up before laying her head on Ron's forehead.

"That seemed to help a little," she said. "But you're still far too warm. Here."

She went to the table and returned with a glass of water.

"I mixed up some more medicine for you."

"Thanks." Ron murmured, sipping the cloudy liquid. Hermione glanced at Harry.

"You should be in bed."

Harry didn't argue and fell back into his bed, exhausted. Hermione found him some paracetamol and a glass of water, handing them to him.

"Thanks," Harry said gratefully. Hermione smiled.

"No problem. Thank you for helping me with Ron."

Harry put the glass down and sighed deeply, closing his eyes.

"Anytime."

It didn't take long for both Harry and Ron to be asleep again and Hermione glanced outside. The storm was growing worse – or at least it looked that way – and she sighed. She didn't have much to do and doing nothing meant she worried. So even though his fever was slightly better, Hermione settled herself next to Ron and bathed his forehead. The action was soothing for her and any little bit helped, she figured … or, rather, it couldn't hurt.

With the wind whistling outside and snow was gathering in impressive drifts around the tent. The temperature inside dropped and Hermione found herself shivering. The same was not true for Ron, however, and by mid-afternoon, his fever was as high as it had been that morning.

By evening, Hermione had moved past concern and was onto serious worry. She had just cleaned up Ron after he'd been sick and went to Harry's bunk.

"Harry," she said quietly, shaking his shoulder. She felt awful for waking him but she needed to talk with him.

"Harry?"

Harry's eyes opened slowly.

"What? Is everything alright? Is Ron okay?"

Hermione sighed.

"He's not doing well," she said. "His fever is back up."

"Do you want to move him to the bath again?"

Hermione didn't commit an answer but plunged ahead with her prepared statement.

"I want to sneak into St. Mungo's."

**Like I said … cliffie! Review please? **


End file.
